


Digging Up Your Dead

by almaruth



Category: NCIS
Genre: Fornell is a BAMF, Gibbs gets a clue, M/M, Spoilers For Bury Your Dead, Tony is insecure but hey who isn't
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-22
Updated: 2014-04-22
Packaged: 2018-01-20 10:31:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 13,736
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1507265
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/almaruth/pseuds/almaruth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU Post Bury Your Dead. After Gibbs watched Tony's car blow up, and spent too many hours thinking DiNozzo was dead, he came to several important realizations about himself. Gibbs/Tony slash, folks.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Finding an Unexpected Grave

Gibbs sat in the chilly darkness of his basement, staring at the space where a boat had been. A jar of bourbon was held loosely in his hand, the bottle sitting on the floor next to the stairs. He wasn't drinking, just staring into space. Unbidden, the image of Tony's burned out car and the charred body curled around the steering wheel rose up in his mind's eye. He closed his eyes and shook his head, but instead he saw two charred cell phones, a soot-covered service weapon, and a warped and burned ID and badge. He drew in a breath - _it wasn't Tony_ \- and took a sip. It burned down his throat, erasing the ghostly images wavering in his imagination.

He wasn't sure what emotions he was feeling. There was pure relief, that Tony was alive, that he hadn't had to bury a second agent, another comrade. He was coldly furious with Jen and the way she had used Tony in her personal vendetta - and it was personal, no matter what she said about it. And here in his basement, he could admit to two more emotions - the bone-deep grief and sorrow he still felt at the thought of Tony's death, and his deep seated fear that this would be it, the moment that he lost Tony.

It felt wrong, to be sitting alone in his basement tonight. Usually after a close-call, DiNozzo eventually made his way to his house and they sat in the stillness together, sometimes talking, other times drinking, but always reaffirming that they had made it through another day. He didn't know where DiNozzo was tonight, and he knew (because he’d checked before he left the building) that Tony hadn't requisitioned another cell phone. _Rule number three, DiNozzo,_ he thought, _never be out of reach._ He snorted. _Right Jethro. Because when you went haring off to Mexico, you followed rule number three._ Gibbs shook his head again, and took another sip. If he hadn't left, maybe Tony wouldn't  be in this mess. _No point in blaming yourself, Jethro. What's done is done. Gotta fix this now, before Tony does a runner._

His phone rang and he picked up without looking at the caller i.d. "Gibbs," he answered.

"Boss?" It was Tony. "Boss. . . Boss, I screwed up. Didja know you aren't supposed to fall in love with your mark, Boss? Jen thinks I need reminding."

Jethro's chest twisted. Tony was drunk, far drunker than Gibbs could ever remember him being. "Yeah, DiNozzo, I know. Where are you?"

"Nowhere you'll find me Boss. Maybe I'll go to Mexico and not leave a number," Tony's voice faded, and it sounded like he was talking - no, arguing with someone. "Here. He wants to talk to you."

"DiNozzo! Who wants to talk to me? Where are you?" He tried to keep his voice level, but the end of his question turned into a growl anyway.

"Jethro, what the hell happened to DiNozzo today?"

"Tobias?" What the hell was DiNozzo doing with Tobias? "Where the hell are you two?"

"My house. He wanted to call you so I gave him my phone. He showed up here a half hour ago. Jethro, he's completely wasted. Can hardly stand up. I haven't a clue how he got here, either. He's got no phone, no badge, no weapon - and I did check thoroughly," in the background, Jethro hears Tony say something about 'not on a first date,' and if things weren't so serious, he'd laugh, "and I don't know what the hell is going on."

"I'll come get him."

Tobias' response gave him pause. "Like hell you will! I don't know what the hell you did to him at NCIS today, but the kid's a wreck. He's not going anywhere with you until you tell me what is going on. And after the way you came back from your little Mexican siesta, I'm not sure I should let you anywhere near him when he's this vulnerable."

He drew in a deep breath, let it out. _He's looking out for Tony, like you were supposed to do and didn't. Don't get angry with him just because you feel guilty._ "We watched his car get blown up in MTAC today. Found out he'd been on a long-term under-cover assignment, and that the girl he'd been seeing was his mark. I watched Jen tear him down over a personal vendetta not twenty minutes after he returned," he swallowed, "I thought he was dead. For over an hour, I thought he was dead."

There was silence on the other end of the line, and then Jethro heard quick footsteps and a door shut. "Jeanne was the undercover assignment?"

How did Tobias know her name? "Yeah."

"Shit," was Tobias' succinct summation of that fact. "Christ, is he meant to have all the important women in his life disappear or disappoint him? No wonder he's a mess. And what the hell do you mean you though he was dead? Why the hell didn't anyone call me?"

"Why would we call you?" 

Tobias hissed, "I'm his fucking next-of-kin, that's why!" He sounded unnerved. "What, you didn't check? How much of a bastard are you?"

Gibbs sat in stunned silence. Fornell was Tony's next-of-kin? When had that happened? When he'd . . . left, it had been him. He hadn't checked because he thought he knew who Tony's next of kin was. _Never assume, Jethro_. He thought back over the conversation. Fornell hadn't asked if the girl was _an_ undercover assignment, he asked if she was _the_ undercover assignment. Fornell already knew Tony was working undercover. _Let it go, Jethro_ , he cautioned himself. _The end goal is not losing Tony - and apparently I'm closer to losing him then I thought - I can't afford to piss his friends off._ He swallowed his instinctive anger over someone stepping into what he considered his position at Tony's side, and instead of barking at Tobias, asked quietly, "Can I come over? I'd like to see him. Its been a hell of a day." 

"You don't bother him," Fornell said warily, "You leave him alone, and we'll talk. Kid's probably passed out by now anyway." Jethro heard the door open, and footsteps again. "Oh hell, kid. Why didn't you say anything?" He was pretty sure he hadn't been meant to hear that. His chest twisted again.

"I'll see you in a few," he said, and hung up. He set his jar of bourbon down on the step next to him and rubbed his face with his hands. Finding out Tony had gone to Fornell to find a place to lick his wounds left an ache in his chest. That Fornell had replaced him as Tony's next of kin, that burned. He rubbed his face again. _Be honest with your subconscious, at least. You're jealous. Tony was yours - your responsibility, yours to care for, to take care of, and you liked that. You liked him being your loyal St.Bernard. You've always been possessive of your people, but Tony's always been a special case. You always wanted to know where he was, and who he was with. Spent extra time at work, sometimes, when you knew he had paperwork to fill out. Had him over for dinner, to work on the boat. Tried to keep him out of trouble in his personal life . . ._

He swallowed hard.

_Oh hell._

_I'm in love with DiNozzo._  


	2. Reading the Headstone

Gibbs stepped into Fornell's house, closing the front door softly behind him. He stood for a moment in the entry, listening for sounds of life in the house. Walking further in, he heard the sound of retching, and a softer murmur. He stood outside the bathroom, watching as Tony emptied the contents of his stomach into Fornell's toilet. Fornell knelt on the floor next to Tony, rubbing his back and holding a glass of water at the ready. He was leaning into Tony, whispering quietly into his ear.

Gibbs swallowed hard against the rush of emotions. He knew from all the ex-wives that he expressed negative emotion as anger _at_ someone, and that would not help him here. He ignored the small voice pointing out that Fornell was taking good care of Tony, better than he’d managed since long before he left for Mexico. 

He walked away from the bathroom, and found himself in the kitchen. Gibbs opened the fridge and stared blankly at the contents. _Must be an Emily weekend coming up_ , he thought, staring at the neat rows of juice boxes, milk cartons, and snack-packs of vegetables. He snagged a juice box, hoping that he was remembering correctly about Emily’s least favorite juice. Gibbs tried not to think about the picture he would make, sitting at Fornell’s kitchen table, drinking a “mixed-fruit” juice box.  In his head he was practicing calm questions, things he could ask without riling Fornell up. Problem was, even if the question was worded calmly, he didn’t really trust himself to not start snapping, and that would put him right out the door. 

He was so lost in thought that he missed Fornell’s entrance, and incredulous stare. The scrape of a chair startled him out of his thoughts. Fornell looked bone-tired, and was wearing a different shirt than the one Gibbs had seen him wearing in the bathroom. “Tony’s passed out in his bedroom,” Fornell informed him wearily. “Ask what you want, but no shouting. If you wake him up, I will kick you out.” 

Gibbs nodded. Better start with the calmest questions first. Unfortunately, he wasn’t quite sure which ones those were. “I . . . um,” he started, looking lost. 

Fornell sighed. “Look, Jethro. What parts of it are my story to tell, I’ll tell you. But parts of it are his, and I won’t share those things. If I say I can’t tell you, I can’t tell you – but if you ask Tony nicely about it, he might tell you. You don’t go bothering him about _anything_ you hear tonight, got it? I know you, Jethro. You’re like a dog with a bone. But you throw this back at him, and I swear to God, I will end you.” 

Gibbs stared at his friend with new eyes. He’d never seen Fornell so . . . protective before, except for that mess when the bank-robber-who-wasn’t showed up at a party Emily was attending. He nodded slowly, still a little lost over his starting point. He decided he might as well admit as much – it might help him out, make Fornell loose some of his edge. “I don’t know where to start.” 

Fornell looked away for a moment. “ Did you know I went to a military academy as a kid? That’s where I met DiNozzo the first time. He was this dinky twelve year old kid looking for a fight. He picked one with the wrong guys - they were about four years older than him, individually about three times his size, but he just kept egging them on, poking at them, and he wouldn’t shut up, even when they whaled on him,” Fornell chuckled a little, “He was such a little shit, you know? I was back to visit my advisor on my university’s fall break – I was a senior by then – and I stumbled across them. Tore a strip into the older guys, and set Tony to rights. He took a shine to me, and showed it by being the most obnoxious little brat he could – except I’d had enough psych classes by then to know that he was pushing me to find out how much I’d take before I left him. 

“So I started visiting more often, spending time with him. I wrote him letters, called him on weekends. Pretty soon I was getting calls from his teachers when he was acting out, or getting into fights. When I asked him about it, he changed the subject on me. I let him, figured it wasn’t a big deal. That was until spring break. They had to do something – paint the dorms, maybe, I don’t remember any more – and Tony showed up on my dorm’s doorstep, shivering, looking more lost then any kid ever should. His dad had kicked him out over winter break, and wouldn’t take him home. So he came to me. Took a bus from RIMA to Ohio, by himself. When I asked him why, he told me he didn’t know where else to go. What could I do? I let him stay, and at the end of his break, took the bus back with him. When I got to RIMA, I dropped him off, and headed to the office. Told them that Tony was coming to me over breaks, and gave them my contact information. Which made them look at me funny, since it seemed DiNozzo Sr. had given them forms to that effect after winter break. Later Tony admitted that he’d forged the signature on it.” 

Fornell filled a glass with water, and took a drink. “Well, I sure wasn’t ready to be a dad at twenty-two, especially not to a twelve year old. So I decided I’d be his brother, instead.”

Gibbs stared at Fornell. He didn’t know about any of this. Well, he’d figured there had been some sort of positive influence in Tony’s life after Senior kicked him out and sent him to Rhode Island Military Academy, but neither Tony nor Fornell had ever mentioned it to him. He pulled his mind back into some semblance of order to ask, “How come you never told me? And how come you call him DiNutzo?”

“I call him DiNutzo because he hated being reminded of Senior when I met him. And because it became a joke between us, a sort of verbal secret hand-shake,” Fornell answered, grinning slightly. “I never told you because it was his story to tell. After that jackass from Michigan blew out his knee, Tony decided he wanted to be a cop. But he didn’t want me to smooth anything for him, didn’t want any help. Made me promise to leave him be – no checking in on him, no nothing. I wasn’t even on his damn medical forms. I’d wait for him to mention his partner, then I’d call them and let them know I expected to be called when Tony got hurt – because he did get hurt, always thinking of everyone else before he worried about his own skin. He got mad, the first time I showed up at the hospital after he got hurt on the job, but I got him settled pretty quick.” Fornell frowned slightly, as though the memory wasn’t a happy one.  “Then you showed up in Baltimore, and hauled him off to NCIS. Even though I already knew you, he was afraid of what you’d think if you found out his surrogate brother was FBI. He asked me not to say anything, and I didn’t, beyond calling him DiNutzo. Pretty quick you took over his life – I hardly saw him anymore, but the grapevine kept me updated. After I picked up the pieces when you hared off to Mexico, I told Tony he’d be changing his next-of-kin forms, damn what anyone else thought.”

Gibbs grabbed hold of his temper with both hands to ask, “How’d you know about the op?”

Fornell scoffed. “How’d you miss it? Mr. High-and-Mighty Leroy Jethro Gibbs missing something about his team?”

Gibbs winced. That stung, all the more powerfully for its truth. “Tobias,” he said, trying to keep the plea out of his voice.

“You really didn’t know? I figured it out pretty quick when he stopped looking like he was getting any sleep. And then all of a sudden he’s got a girl. I tailed him a few times, and finally confronted him about it about a month after your return. He spilled quicker then I expected,” Fornell said with a glare, clearly implicating Gibbs in Tony’s troubles.

Gibbs looked down at the table. _Recriminations won’t help. But swallowing Rule Six might._ He looked up, made eye contact. “Tobias. I’m sorry.” 

“I’m not the one you need to apologize to,” he hissed, but he looked a little softer. He sipped more of his water, and then asked, “So. His car blew up?”

Gibbs flinched. “Yeah,” he said, voice raspy. “Yeah. Watched it on MTAC about five minutes after finding out he was undercover without backup. I should’ve checked his paperwork, but that would’ve meant he was . . .” Gibbs trailed off, not really wanting to mention what he had thought was a distinct likelihood just that morning.

Fornell rubbed his hands over his face. “Yeah, well. I might have shot your director, so maybe it’s a good thing you didn’t tell me. But next time? Next time, you call me. I don’t care what the hell else is going on. Kid grows on you, you know? He’s my brother, Gibbs, and he comes second only to Emily.”

Gibbs smiled wryly when Fornell mentioned how Tony grows on you. _Don’t I know more about that then I ever wanted to? Fornell will leave it for tonight, but he’ll start demanding answers soon enough. Pretty sure I don’t want to give him those answers._ “Can I look in on him?” 

Fornell nodded, and stood. The two men quietly walked down the hall, and Fornell pushed open a door. Tony lay sprawled on the bed in his boxers, a trash-can next to the bed, and a glass of water and a bottle of aspirin on the bedside table.  His back was bruised from where he’d been shoved against the wall by Kort, and he had a variety of other scrapes and bruises. Gibbs looked closer. Tony had a hell of a shiner, too. _He looks too skinny,_ Gibbs thought. “What happened to his eye?” Gibbs asked. 

Fornell snorted quietly. “Jeanne. Pretty sure he didn’t duck ‘cause he felt like he deserved it.”

Gibbs shook his head. Jenny had a hell of a lot to answer for. He watched Tony sleep, drawing comfort from the steady rise and fall of his back as he breathed, from his solidity, even from the slight smell of alcohol and vomit. All of those things just meant that Tony was alive, that Gibbs hadn’t lost him permanently.

After a few more moments, Gibbs and Fornell made their way back up the hall to the kitchen. Gibbs snagged another juice box (he’d never tell anyone, but he kind of liked the damn things) and Fornell refilled his water glass. They stared at each other for a moment, before Fornell spoke.

“How long have you been in love with him?”


	3. Entering the Graveyard

Tony woke slowly, trying to appease the blacksmith who had taken up residence somewhere between his temples. He cracked his eyes open, taking in the dimly lit room. It was nearly as familiar to him as his room at his apartment. He was at Tobias’. He didn’t really remember arriving, and he winced as he turned his head to look at the side table. He looked at the water and aspirin and felt like whimpering. Big brother tendencies usually meant he’d been really out of it, he’d gotten sick, he’d been taken care of, and pretty soon he’d be getting reamed out. And he knew he’d deserve it. His eyes had the scratchy feeling he remembered from the night after Kate’s funeral. _Jeanne_. In an effort to forget about it, he rolled over and popped the aspirin into him mouth, followed by a quick swallow of water. The water soothed the rough places in his mouth for a moment, and then those rough places joined up with the blacksmith in making his head pound. He stayed still a moment longer to ensure the water would stay down before slowly getting to his feet. 

He slipped across the hall to the bathroom, bare feet scuffing on the carpet. He opened the cabinet and pulled out the toothbrush he kept here. He hunted for a moment before the pounding in his head overwhelmed him, and he grabbed Emily’s princess toothpaste. It tasted far too sweet and bubble-gum-y, but it would at least clear his mouth of the small, furry, very very dead animal. He spit and rinsed, and turned to stare at the shower. He wasn’t sure he had the energy for it, but a shower would stave off the lecture for at least fifteen minutes, _and_ he might feel more like a real person.

“Kitchen, kid. I’ve got breakfast ready,” Fornell said quietly from behind him. 

Tony jumped. “Jesus. Okay, I’ll be down in a moment.”

Tobias nodded. “Right. Fratellino, put some goddamn clothes on.”

Tony looked down in surprise. _Oh._ Tobias had clearly stripped him down to his boxers. He wondered if any of his clothes from the night before were salvageable. As he turned to leave the bathroom, his reflection caught his eye. He reached up and gently touched the black, blue, and puffy bruise on his cheekbone. _Jeanne_. He swallowed against the sensation in the back of his throat, and walked out of the bathroom. 

He made it into the kitchen after pulling on sweats and a t-shirt. He swallowed down the rush of emotions at the feast Tobias had prepared for him. Bacon, eggs, toast . . . there was orange juice, and steam rising off two mugs of coffee.

“Sit,” Tobias said, looking vaguely embarrassed. “Eat. And then you tell me about how you didn’t tell me your car blew up yesterday.”

Tony flinched but nodded, pulling a chair out from the kitchen table. Past experience had taught him that if he tried to address the issue now, Tobias would stonewall him until he’d finish eating, so he was best off eating as much as he could before saying anything. 

Several minutes later, Tony surveyed his empty plate and the depleted table with satisfaction. Tobias’ mother had been Italian, and, like most Italian mothers, she fed you when she was worried. Tobias had picked up the habit, and Tony had learned to read moods off of the food prepared. Bacon, eggs, and toast meant that Tobias was going to be kind in deference to the hangover, but the quantities said that finding out that Tony’s car had blown up had thrown him for a loop.

Tobias leaned back, his plate as empty as Tony’s, and looked at him, waiting. It was one of the similarities between Gibbs and Tobias – their ability to watch and wait, while you twisted with guilt. Tony knew he could outlast most – but only if he employed tactics he’d used on his father, and he wouldn’t do that with or to Tobias. Instead, he opened his mouth, and the whole story spilled out. 

Telling it released a weight from his shoulders. He’d told Tobias about the op – he wasn’t stupid, no matter what anyone said, and he knew better than to go out on an op with no backup and only one person who knew what he was doing. He’d told Tobias about Jeanne, too, but not that she _was_ the op. He shivered, passing a hand over his eyes.

Actually, it wasn’t that surprising he’d ended up here. Since he’d started at NCIS, he’d almost always ended up at Gibbs’ place, but there had been a few times when he’d come here, instead. After getting locked in a crate . . . chained to a serial killer . . . lost in a sewer . . . the night after Gibbs left. Those nights, he’d come for his older brother, the man who Tony still sometimes saw as the super-cool college student, towering over the older boys Tony couldn’t keep from mouthing off in front of. The man who took him in, no questions asked, as a college senior when he showed up on his dorm’s front step. Who took him in, time and time again, no anger, no questions, no complaints about how much he ate or the space he was taking up. And maybe the next night he ended up at Gibbs’ place, sitting on the basement steps with his own mason jar of bourbon hanging lightly from his fingertips, but the deepest cracks had usually been patched over by then.

He glanced across the table. Tobias looked like he wanted to shoot someone. Tony decided to leave it for a bit longer, and started clearing the table instead. He was drying the last pan when Tobias finally shook his head. “Next time,” he said mildly, “you tell me that the girl you’re seeing is your mark. 

Tony’s good mood evaporated. “There won’t be a next time,” he said flatly, turning away. To give himself something to do, he poured another glass of orange juice, and sipped it.

Tobias sighed, and his eyes flicked up to the ceiling. “Fratellino, that’s not what I meant. I meant, you don’t keep secrets from me, okay? How can I help if I don’t know? Your secrets are safe with me, and I certainly won’t spill NCIS secrets – plus, who’d go looking for them with me?” 

Tony’s eye caught the brief wince after Tobias told him his secrets were safe with him, and his sluggish brain piped up with _how’d he hear about my car blowing up anyway? Yesterday was his day off._ “Who told you about my car?” he asked, stepping around the minefield of his brother’s speech.

“What do you remember about last night?” he countered.

Tony paused. Kicking Ziva out of his apartment was clear, as was the fight with Jeanne (Jeanne’s fight with him). He remembered taking a cab to a bar. Remembered drinking steadily. Then it got woozy. There was another cab, and being patted down? And a phone call . . . Tony squeezed his eyes shut, hoping that when he opened them, he wouldn’t remember drunk dialing Gibbs on Tobias’ phone, threatening to go to Mexico without leaving a number behind. “Christ,” he muttered. “I called Gibbs. That’s how you found out.”

Tobias nodded slowly. “You should probably stop by his place this weekend. He signed off on several days leave for you – don’t argue, you won’t win against both of us – and stopped by here last night after you called.”

Tony felt his jaw drop. “He stopped by here?” His voice squeaked a bit, and he racked his brain. Nothing floated to the surface. 

“Yeah, you were busy puking into the toilet, and passing out. I don’t think you saw him. By the way, where the hell is your gun?” 

“Don’t have one. It was in my car.” Tony stepped back a bit in the face of his brother’s rage.

“Where is your back-up? You aren’t leaving here without one of my back-ups. You’ve pissed too many people off, now including the CIA, to not carry.”

Tony held his hands out in front of himself, placating. “I’ll borrow one of yours. And I have another back-up at my apartment.” He took a breath. “Gibbs stopped by here?” 

He didn’t know why he was so fixated on that, but something in his brother’s quiet, “you scared him, fratellino,” warmed him, settled something that had been loosely rattling back into place. 


	4. Waiting by the Graveyard Fence

Tobias huffed a bit, but backed down to let Tony chew on that. The blunt reminder of _why_ Tony hadn’t been carrying the night before (and what Tony hadn’t said, and Tobias wouldn’t ever say, was that Tony hadn’t been carrying for reasons beyond that – he’d been planning on drinking heavily, and after breaking Jeanne’s heart, felt maybe like he deserved what was coming to him).

He also, and he’d never, ever admit it except maybe when _both_ he and Tony were old and grey, was watching the way his words settled his brother. It stung, a little, that hearing “You scared him,” settled Tony better than all his worry did, but that was also part of being an older brother – letting his fratellino go when the time was right. And although Jethro might have admitted it last night (far too early this morning), Tony wasn’t ready for that kind of admission yet. Tobias refused to acknowledge his fear the Tony might never be ready, after this, after Gibbs taking off to Mexico, after Kate, after Wendy, after his father, after his mother. All those blows had stolen something from him, and Tobias railed silently against the idea that his brother might never open himself up for someone. _Though_ , he thought wryly, _if there were anyone he would open himself up for like that, its Gibbs_. _And maybe Gibbs could corral him a bit, keep his everyone else is worth more than me shit to a minimum._

He looked up in time to meet Tony’s eyes, and catch the apologetic smile that lurked on his face. “Thanks,” Tony said quietly, and Tobias understood what he couldn’t say. 

“Go shower,” he returned, and wrinkled his nose. “You smell, kid.”

Tobias waited until Tony had already crossed the threshold into the hallway before adding, “You can always come here.”

Tony’s shoulders hitched, and then released as his head dipped forward once.

Tobias sipped a cup of decaf as he listened to Emily chatter. She spoke so quickly he couldn’t always follow what she said, but he would never admit to his little girl she needed to slow down and speak up. His ears had been bad since an explosion when he was a rookie with the FBI, one of the few times it had been Tony at his bedside. Tony left RIMA without leave to come see him after his supervisor had called the school – it turns out, when a kid’s your responsibility, your supervisors notify the proper authorities quick when you get hurt – and when the school couldn’t reach him, they’d called _his_ next of kin: his parents. So when ma and dad had shown up at the hospital, frantic for too many reasons: their son in the hospital and the boy they’d heard so much about missing, and Tony had been there, well. Dad said later that while ma was crying in relief that they were both okay, he’d gotten a bit loud, and 5 years out of that godforsaken house and free of that goddamn man, Tony had flinched away from him. Covered it with a lot of crap, but he’d flinched. Tobias was sure his dad had carried the guilt of that with him until his death three years ago.

He pulled himself out of his thoughts when the clock struck 10, and decided it was high time he got his daughter into her bed, because Diana pitched a fit when he let her stay up late. He chivvied his still chattering, sleepy little girl into the bathroom with an admonition to “brush well!” and went to turn the sheets down in her room.

She came bounding in a few minutes later. “Daddy! Is Tony here?”

“No,” he replied, confused. “Why?”

“Someone used my toothpaste. Is he gonna come over this weekend?”

Tobias choked on laughter. The image of Tony in the bathroom this morning, using Emily’s princess toothpaste, was too funny. “I don’t know sweetie. Once you get into bed, I’ll call him, and if he can talk, you can ask him.”

She grinned at him, confident in her ability to get her “Uncle” Tony to do whatever she liked. The first time Emily had called him Uncle, Tobias had nearly had to strap Tony in the chair to keep him from running away. Idiot thought he’d be a bad influence and a whole host of other insecurities that were bull shit as far as Tobias was concerned. “You gonna hit her?” he’d asked. Tony had looked appalled, and nearly tied his tongue in a knot saying he wouldn’t. “Touch her inappropriately?” Tony had looked horrified, and like he wanted to throw up. “You gonna pick her up when she falls, give her a hug when she cries, generally spoil her when her daddy’s mean?” Tony had looked so lost at that one that Tobias felt, not for the first time, a deep desire to rearrange his father’s face. “You’ll be a wonderful Uncle, Tony. You think I’d let you around her if I didn’t think you could take care of her if you needed to?” The kid had looked bewildered, but Tobias could see the way Emily already had him wrapped around her little fingers, and knew Tony would be fine.

They were working their way through the Junie B. Jones books – he could get through one in a weekend if they read together more often then just at bedtime. They read their chapters, and then the puppy eyes began. “Can you call Uncle Tony now Daddy? Please?”

He let her beg soundlessly for a few seconds before he pulled out his cell. He hit speed dial 4 (after Diane for 2 and Emily’s School for 3) and listened to it ring. When it became clear it would go to voicemail, he whispered, “Leave a message,” and handed the phone to Emily.

“Hi Uncle Tony!” she chirped. “Did you use my toothpaste? Daddy says you did. Can you come over to play tomorrow? Please? With a cherry on top? And ice-cream too? If we ask nice, Daddy will let us get pizza . . . so you should come over. I’ll see you tomorrow, okay? I love you!” And she hung up, handing the phone over. “Do you think he’ll come over, Daddy?”

“How could he say no, sweetheart? You asked so nice.”

She giggled. “Nicely, Daddy. I asked so nicely.”

Tobias smiled at her. “So you did. It’s time for little girls to be asleep, though, so I’m going to turn out the lights. Do you want a glass of water?” 

She yawned, as though the mention of sleep had made her tired again, and tried to answer at the same time. “Yes please.” 

He set a glass of water on her bedside table, and kissed her forehead. “Sleep tight, and don’t let the bedbugs bite. I’ll see you in the morning light, Emily-girl.” 

She nodded, and snuggled down into her blankets as he reached the light. “Night, Daddy,” she whispered.

“Night,” he whispered back, and cracked the door open.

He headed back to the kitchen, intending to crack open a beer and nurse it for a while and think. On the way there, though, he remembered the way Gibbs’ voice had cracked yesterday, “I thought he was dead. For over an hour, I thought he was dead.” And the way Gibbs hadn’t been able to voice to his face his fear that Tony had been dead. He closed his eyes against the thought. It was one of his greatest fears for Tony. That Tobias wouldn’t find out until it was too late, and Tony would die alone somewhere. Or that he wouldn’t make it to Tony in time. And, God, there’d been too many close calls since Tony had joined NCIS for Tobias to be sanguine about this most recent one. He leaned against the wall, trying to pull himself together. Tony hadn’t been blown up, or left to die in a sewer, or drowned in his own lungs, or (Tobias’ personal ‘favorite’) fallen to his death from an airplane. He’d been cracked wide open by Jeanne, and his Director, but he was alive, and Tobias would hold onto that thought. 

He decided to forgo the beer, and grabbed a glass of water instead, heading back to his bedroom. The late night the night before was catching up to him, and Emily would be up early in the morning. He winced when he thought of the questions the black eye on Tony’s face would raise, but thank god there was an Uncle Tony to have a bruised face. 

Tobias settled into bed, turning the last 24 hours over in his head. So Gibbs was in love with his fratellino? Not a huge surprise there – Gibbs had loved Tony for a long time before it became romantic. Well, he supposed, it was a surprise that Gibbs was in love with a man. Tony had always been more fluid about preferences. Tobias suspected that he might actually be gay, but he’d never asked Tony about it – he was fairly certain Tony’s sexuality had been a point of contention with his father, and probably at RIMA as well. He knew that people thought Tony had a father thing with Gibbs, but Tobias had always been . . . skeptical was a bit polite for what he thought of that idea. Tony didn’t associate good things with fathers. No, Gibbs had slowly wormed his way into his little brother’s life, and heart, until he’d become indispensible. And then Gibbs had gone haring off to Mexico. Tony had been broken-hearted, even if he wasn’t aware of it. It was part of why he’d thrown himself into the undercover assignment. But Gibbs had left, and Tobias didn’t know if Tony would ever truly get over that.

The side of his mouth quirked up as he turned the lights off. Of all the people he knew, Gibbs probably stood the best chance of getting back into Tony’s life after that betrayal, because Tony understood despair. But Tobias was certain Gibbs would have to wait a long time before Tony realized how he felt. And if Gibbs hadn’t waited for Tony, Tobias might have to kill him, because Tobias knew Tony, and when Tony realized what he felt for Gibbs, that would be it for Tony. But Tobias was content to watch, and provide the opportunity for an ear (not that Tony would ever take it) and wait and hopefully (clearly he’d been reading too many fairy-tales with Emily) hopefully Tony would get a happily-ever-after.


	5. Waiting by the Graveside

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So guys, wildly AU here, because I’m still only somewhere in the middle of season 5 for episodes I’ve watched in chronological order. Sorry. I don’t know enough about timing of events to bring them in super well or in detail.

Gibbs turned the empty jar he’d been drinking bourbon out of over, watching as the few drops left slid down the jar’s walls, and clung to the lip. He turned it back right side up, and watched them slide back to the bottom. He repeated the action a few more times, before setting the glass down on the floor, and resting his head in his hands. It had been a long day, and a longer case. And DiNozzo, once again, attracting all the trouble he could. 

Today’s accident hadn’t even been, in the grand scheme of ‘accidents’ Tony had gotten into, that big a deal. They’d found their guy, but he’d done a runner, and with McGee and Ziva providing protection for the little boy he’d kidnapped, he and Tony had taken off after him. Tony, bad lungs and all, was still an athlete at heart, and Gibbs had always known that he worked hard to stay in shape, but watching Tony outrace him easily had torn at him, and watching Tony turn a corner out of sight had given Gibbs the adrenaline edge he needed to keep up. It was a good thing, too, because Tony had tripped over some crazy lady’s dog (damn yappy little thing) and was currently flat on his back, gun pointed steadily at the slightly crazed Marine, waiting for Gibbs to arrive. The woman was emitting soft shrieks of distress, but Gibbs ignored her until their suspect was in cuffs.  Then she’d started to harangue DiNozzo for crashing into her dog and hurting the thing, but DiNozzo was watching the way her hands were shaking and he let her run out of steam before saying quietly, “Hey. I’m okay. We’re all okay. I’m going to need a statement from you, and then why don’t you let me call a friend? You got a scare, and someone should be here for you.” The dog was sniffing at Tony’s cuffs, and he scratched it behind the ears, watching as it flopped on its back at his feet, waiting for a belly rub. “There you go, little guy,” Tony said, chuckling, “no hard feelings.”

As the woman apologized for her dog tripping him, and Tony demurred, Gibbs had been hit by a sudden rush of relief and, well, tenderness that came from Tony being alright, and being the good man the whole team knew he was even at his most obnoxious. He must have turned a funny color, because Tony had tipped his head to the side. “Boss? You alright?”

Gibbs winced, remembering. He’d gotten in Tony’s face a bit, blustering about waiting for back-up and not being an idiot and the woman had made more distressed noises, but Tony just let him rant, one eyebrow quirked up as if to say, “Really, Gibbs?” And then Tony had smiled, quietly; in that way Gibbs was prepared to bet that he, Fornell, and Emily were the sole recipients of, and apologized. “Boss, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to get so far ahead. I didn’t mean to worry you.” 

And Gibbs had backed off, afraid of what he might blurt out in front of Tony, the woman, her dog, and the suspect if he let himself talk. They hustled the suspect back to the sedan, and Gibbs tried not to watch when Tony soothed the woman’s nerves further, and slipped her his card. Tony was chuckling when he slid into the passenger seat, but when pressed, hadn’t said anything. They got the suspect processed, and booked, and then Gibbs sent everyone home for the evening. 

He’d arrived at his house to a pizza, with a note scrawled on top in an unfamiliar hand. “You’re an idiot,” it read. “When are you going to tell him? – TF” 

He’d eaten the pizza (and where Tony and Tobias found all these amazing pizza places was a bit beyond him. Gibbs had never seen them eating chain pizza, or anything resembling frozen pizza) and then headed down to the basement. After the boat for Mike and Layla, he’d stopped making them, finally having made his peace with Shan and Kelly. Instead, he worked on smaller projects – he’d made a bookshelf for Ducky, a set of bookends for the team’s author, an inlaid box for Ziva, any number of knick-knacks for Abby. He’d even made Palmer and Brenna a wedding gift. Gibbs looked at the piece across the room that stared back at him mockingly. He knew Tony had been puzzled about why he hadn’t received a gift from him, given in his admittedly gruff way, but he’d shaken it off, pointing at the end table Gibbs had made him after he managed to keep Tony in one place for longer than two years, giving him a solid piece of furniture as if to say “You can put down roots here.”

Hell, he’d made Tobias a decorated box for the medals he’d accumulated (like Gibbs, he wasn’t actually appreciative of them, which made Gibbs wonder which of them had passed that particular trait to Tony). After his confession to Tobias, and Tony’s awkward visit the next night, he’d found himself included in some of the things they did as a family. As he’d grown to appreciate Emily in her own right, when she became more than just a painful reminder of what he’d lost, he made her first a doll house, and then when she was older, a solid, plain desk painted white, and just last year a jewelry case, with a stand to hold her necklaces. She was growing up well, and she’d given him a hug. “Thanks, Jethro,” she had said. “I bet Kelly would have loved them as much as I do,” and he knew that she wasn’t accusing him of using her as a surrogate, but was recognizing his loss in the only way her thirteen year old self knew how. 

But the piece across the basement still stared back at him, mockingly. He didn’t really know how it had gotten started, only that one day he’d taken a good look at what he’d been crafting, and it was there, pretty much declaring his feelings for him. 

He glanced at the bourbon bottle, but decided against it. Gibbs remembered with painful clarity Tony’s crawl out of the bottle, he and Tobias standing by helplessly as Tony struggled with demons Tobias was clearly all too familiar with, demons Gibbs had only seen shadows of after the worst cases. Gibbs recalled the impotent fury with which Tobias had spoken of Tony’s father, and after meeting the man, Gibbs shared the desire to, as Tobias had said, “rearrange his face and his priorities.” He was aware of the way Tony pulled back from them when they’d been drinking, and the thought of Tony ever not coming to him because he thought Gibbs would be drunk was unacceptable. So Gibbs limited himself to a glass of bourbon when his own demons got to be too big for the rhythmic motion of sanding to take over, and he’d reinstalled the punching bag in his basement, to Ducky’s dismay. 

He glanced at the jar again, and grinned wryly. DiNozzo had managed to make him change without even being in a relationship with him, which was more than he could say about his ex-wives. He flipped open his phone, and hovered over the speed dial for Tony before sighing, and closing it. He wanted Tony here, but he wanted Tony here of his own volition _and be honest with yourself, you want him here because he loves you back not because the basement is as safe a place for him as Tobias’_.

Gibbs surveyed the room, and nearly chuckled. This was just about how he’d been the night he’d (finally) realized he loved Tony. It had been a night of revelations, even if the revelation he wanted hadn’t been one of them. And to be honest, Jethro also knew that he wouldn’t have really been ready to be in a relationship with Tony then. Now, though, he was more than ready. If only DiNozzo would get with the program. 

_“How long have you been in love with him?” Fornell asked._

_Gibbs jumped in his seat. “Don’t know,” he said finally. “Just realized tonight I was.”_

_They were silent for a while, staring at the table. Gibbs felt the silence stretch around him, and suddenly found himself speaking again. “But maybe since I hired him. I – he was a cocky shit, but he was also the best damn detective in that police department, and the best I’d ever worked with. He challenged me, got right up in my face and didn’t let the bark scare him off. Every time he got into trouble I got more, well, Ducky said like a bear with a sore paw.”_

_Fornell just looked at him, measuring. It was suddenly very important to Gibbs that Tobias approve. “I’d treat him right,” he said quietly into the silence. “It took me long enough to see it, but I’d do right by him. I don’t do casual.” He swallowed; embarrassed by his own words, but he could see the set of Tobias’ shoulders soften a little._

_“You been with a guy before?” Fornell asked._

_Gibbs shook his head. No, he’d never even registered a man as sexually attractive until he met Tony._

_Tobias squirmed a bit. “You ever get a chance with him, you take it damn slow, okay?”_

_Get a chance. . . “Spit it out.”_

_Sighing, Tobias said, “Look. He’s been hurt. By you. By Jeanne. By Wendy. By Senior. By his mother. He isn’t ready for you to say anything. You do, and he’ll run. He nearly ran after Emily was born, and love like your talking about terrifies him. He’s not picky about gender; he’s just not out at the yard. He’s brought men and women back here to meet me. But they never gave him what he wanted, which is why I think that if you can weather this storm, you’ll have a chance.”_

_Gibbs closed his eyes briefly. “What does he want?”_

_Fornell laughed quietly. “You know the answer to that. You don’t need me to tell you.”_

_He nodded, agreeing. “He wants to belong.”_

_“And now I’ve said way too much. I’m a terrible older brother,” Fornell said, grinning wryly._

_Gibbs shook his head. “No. It’ll keep me from setting him off into doing a runner. I won’t bring it up, unless I have to.”_

_They sat in silence, Gibbs nursing his juice-box, until the clock struck 2am, and he stood. “Thanks, Tobias,” he muttered, stretching._

_Tobias just nodded. “You hurt him again,” he said quietly, “and I swear to you, I will end your career in the most humiliating way possible. Use your words and explain to Tony why you went to Mexico. He’ll understand, and it’ll go a long way to making things right again.”_

Gibbs shook himself lightly, and stood up on legs gone a bit numb. It had taken him a while, but he had finally had that conversation with Tony, and slowly their friendship had gotten back on track. Tony showed up at his basement pretty regularly, and Gibbs was no longer afraid he’d show up at work today to a badge, gun, and letter on his desk.

He pulled a rag down, and the bottle of oil, and began to work it slowly into the piece that had slowly come to mean so much. He lost himself in the slow, repetitive movements, letting his mind go blank beyond the shush of fabric on wood.


	6. Reaching Out of the Grave

Tobias shut the door behind him, raising an eyebrow at the kitchen. It was sparkling, and there was a covered plate on the table with a note reading “(h)eat me!” When it had become apparent that he was going to have to work late tonight, and that he would not be home in time to make dinner for Emily, he’d called Tony up. Clearly the two had had a good night – underneath the saran was a plate of spaghetti and meatballs – and the pasta maker was in the dish rack. Something told him there had been flour everywhere; hence the sparkling kitchen. He slid the plate into the microwave, and waited. 

He could hear Tony and Emily laughing upstairs.

“C’mon Tony! I want a bed-time story,” Emily was giggling. 

“Aren’t you too old for stories?” Tony sighed, and Tobias could envision the put-upon expression he was wearing.

“Never too old for stories!” Emily declared, and Tobias knew that she was standing with her hands on hips, trying to look stern, and failing. 

Tony would be standing in front of her, arms crossed across his chest, trying to look disapproving, and failing. This was a ritual they’d started when Emily was about seven (Tobias tried hard not to think about what that told him about Tony’s childhood), and now it was an “every time uncle Tony is here” ritual. They’d stare each other down until one of them (usually Emily) started to laugh, and then Emily would get out the princess toothpaste they kept for these nights, and she’d put her jammies on, and pull out an old princess crown from her closet, and crawl into bed. Tony would already have a glass of water on hand for each of them, and he’d pull an extra pillow off the bed to lean against the wall. 

The microwave beeped, and Tobias pulled the plate out, and began to eat. Tony was a pretty amazing cook – but he only cooked at Tobias’ place. When asked, Tony had hemmed and hawed, but finally murmured something about it being a home. Tobias didn’t really understand, but that was okay. He ate several big bites to appease the growls from his stomach, and then took the plate upstairs. This was part of the ritual too, but Tony and Emily didn’t know about it. Whenever he was home for Tony-Emily story nights, Tobias came up to listen to the story. 

He made it up to the top of the stairs in time to catch Emily saying, “I want a made-up story tonight, please!” 

He imagined Tony nodded, because he heard Emily snuggling down, and then there was an expectant pause. 

“Once upon a time,” Tony began,

* * *

 

Once upon a time there was a family. In that family was a mother, a father, and a little boy. The father was an advisor to very important people, and the mother was a beautiful woman who loved music, but gave up her music for her husband and her little boy. The little boy learned how to play the piano, just like his mother, and learned how to be an advisor, just like his father. And the family was happy, even though the father was often away, and the mother and the little boy missed him.

But dark days came to the family, and the mother became sick, until finally she stopped playing music, and then she died, and the house became still and quiet. The little boy missed his mother, and his father missed his wife, but the father did not know how to comfort the little boy, and so the two fell apart. The father remarried, but the boy’s stepmother wasn’t like a real mother, and he couldn’t love her. When the boy saw how unhappy his father was with his life, he decided he would not be an advisor like his father. When he told his father that he wanted to be a musician like his mother, his father grew very angry, because he did not think that musician was a good profession for a boy. Instead, he sent the boy away to be a soldier.

So the boy went off to learn to be a soldier, and dreamed of being a knight someday. At the soldier-school there were monsters to slay, but the monsters there were too big for a boy, and one day they cornered him. He was afraid he wouldn’t be able to escape, but suddenly a knight appeared, out of nowhere, riding a white horse, and the knight slew the dragons, and scooped the boy up and told him, “You will be a great soldier one day, maybe even a knight, for you are brave and true.” And the boy loved the knight like a brother, and the knight loved the boy, and took care of him when he wasn’t at the soldier-school. So the knight became part of the boy’s family, and so the father was forgotten.

When the boy was older, he learned that he was good at being a jester, and he decided that instead of being a knight, he would be a jester. So after he finished soldier-school, he went off to learn to be a jester. And his brother the knight supported his little brother, because he wanted him to be happy. So the boy went to jester school, and he was the best jester in the school, until one day he had a terrible accident, and he could no longer be a jester.

The boy-who-was-almost-a-man decided that he would not despair, and instead he would learn to be a knight like his brother. So he took his soldier-school learning, and applied to the garrison. He learned many new things, but that garrison did not feel like home, so when another captain came looking for soldiers, the man volunteered.

He spent two whole years with the new garrison, and he learned many new things, but it was not home, and so when another captain came looking, the man volunteered.

He spent two more years with that garrison, and he learned new things, and came very close to being a knight, and he thought he had found a home. But a very bad man spoiled it for him, and that town began to feel like a prison, and so when a knight came, looking for a soldier he could train to be a knight, the man said, “I will go.” 

And after two years, the man stayed, because the knight who was not his brother had made the new garrison home for him. And his brother the knight had a daughter, a growing-up niece-lady, and they lived in that town too, and the man who had been a little boy wanted to stay. He liked having roots. So the man took into his family his brother’s daughter, the growing-up niece-lady, and left behind dreams of siblings-by-blood. 

So he stayed, even when an evil man looking for revenge for an imagined crime killed one of his fellow soldiers in front of him. And although the man wept for his soldier-friend, he did not leave, for the knight who was not his brother was the man’s closest friend, and the man could not imagine life without him.

Then one day, there was a terrible accident, and the knight who the man loved forgot about the man, and the rest of their squad, and ran away to a place where memories couldn’t hurt him anymore, because the knight had carried a terrible, sad secret in his heart, and he had not shared the secret with anyone. Suddenly the man became a knight, but he didn’t want it, because his knight was gone, and with him he had taken the man’s heart, and the squad didn’t respect him, because he was not the sad-hearted knight.

Then the enemy tricked the woman-soldier, and the sad-hearted knight came back with his trusty grey steed to rescue her, and the man who had become a knight too early wanted to say, “I too need rescuing,” but he could not bear to ask and be turned away, so he stayed silent. 

The squad slowly grew back into the tight unit they had once been, and the man who had once been a knight was happy to be a soldier man, second in command, and to follow the knight wherever he might lead. Other knights and captains tried to entice him away, but the man would not go, because this was his home, and he was content with his brother the knight and his niece the growing-up lady and his knight-leader.

One day, when he and the knight were pursuing a criminal through the town, the man got too far ahead of the knight, and he tripped and fell, but managed to stall the criminal while he waited for the knight to come. And suddenly, while he stood there with his sword at the criminal’s neck, he realized that he loved the knight, and more, that the knight loved him back, because the knight always came, even when the man was too afraid to ask for help.

So after they had arrested the criminal, the man went to the knight, and said to him, “You already have my sword, and my loyalty and my life are yours. But I give you also my heart, for I love you and would stay with you, at your side, for the rest of our days.”

The knight was a gruff man, and when he heard the words of the man, he was afraid that his words would not be pretty enough for him. “You know who I am,” the knight said, “You have worked at my side for many years. I will care for you always, and keep you at my side and safe, for you belong with me, and I will allow no other to have you. I give you my heart, because you already have my sword and my loyalty and my life.”

And so the man who never became a knight pledged himself to the knight, and the knight pledged himself to the man, and the brother-knight and the growing-up lady niece gave them their blessing, and the family the boy had created so many years ago lived happily ever after.

* * *

 

Tobias was still sitting in stunned silence at the top of the stairs when Tony turned out the light in Emily’s room. He raised one eyebrow, looking supremely unsurprised to see Tobias sitting there, and continued down to the kitchen. Tobias grabbed his plate, still half full from when he’d stopped eating to listen, and followed Tony down the stairs. He set his plate down at the table, and dropped himself onto a chair, and stared at Tony. 

Tony filled a glass with water, and took a swallow. He looked pointedly at the half-finished plate of food, and Tobias dutifully took a bite, and then another, until the plate was empty. Tony whisked the plate into the sink, washed and dried it, and drained his glass of water. He perched on the counter, and looked everywhere but Tobias.

He considered and disregarded several opening salvos, finally opting for, “You going to tell him?” 

Tony looked surprised. “I hadn’t really gotten that far yet. Mostly I was stuck on the ‘in love’ part.”

He nodded his head, and wished Tony had someone with a more delicate touch to walk through this with him. “Well, when you get your head wrapped around it, you should tell him.” 

Tony laughed, and it sounded a little frantic. “Right. Because what he really wants to hear is that his SFA wants him.”

“You love him, Tony,” Tobias said quietly. “I’d want to know, I think.”

Tony shook his head, and fiddled with his glass. He didn’t say anything for a long while, and Tobias began to wonder if he’d said all he had to say. Finally, just before Tobias was going to say something – anything – to break the silence, Tony opened his mouth. “I’m afraid,” he said, voice cracking slightly. “I watched my father’s love for my mother destroy him when he died, and you were the first person to show me what it meant to be loved. I don’t know how.” 

Tobias looked down at the table and back at his brother. “You didn’t need that to show Emily you loved her, or me. I know you Tony. What you’re really afraid of is that he won’t love you back.” The slight shift in Tony’s stance told Tobias his point had hit home. “But Tony, you already answered that in the story you told tonight. He built back the trust and friendship you lost when he went to Mexico. He is always there to back you up.” Tobias took a breath. “Tony, I know my marriage to Diane wasn’t the best example for you, but being in love with someone? Its worth the risk.”

Tony nodded once, and they sat in silence for a while longer before Tony started humming a tune. It took a moment, but finally Tobias placed it – it was the theme for that show Diane had watched, Sex in the City. Tony caught his eye, and they cracked up. 

They talked about weird cases and sports and movies and didn’t broach the subject for the rest of the night, but when Tony was leaving, he said, “Thanks for the advice. I’ll think about it,” which Tobias knew was as good as Tony having said, “I’ll tell him eventually, on my own time.”


	7. Pulling Each Other Out

Several weeks after what Gibbs had mentally dubbed the “yapping dog incident,” he was back in his basement, brooding. It was, in his opinion, becoming an all too common occurrence (which would probably stop if Tony could stop being so Tony and Gibbs could stop, you know, being in love with him). Currently he was trying not to think about how Tony hadn’t stopped by his place since the yapping dog incident. He had finally given in the next morning and called Fornell and found out that Tony had been there. Something had been off in Fornell’s voice, but he said Tony was fine, and Gibbs knew that Fornell wouldn’t lie to him about that. Anything else, yes, but not his health – physical or otherwise. So he was sitting in his basement, brooding. And that goddamned project he’d accidentally made for Tony was finished and Gibbs didn’t know what to do with it, and was a little relieved Tony hadn’t been by to see it and use his rather astounding powers of observation and pulling-together-of-random-facts to realize what it was and who it was for and where Gibbs hoped it might someday sit. (He also tried not to think about how his mental voice was sounding like Abby these days).

The front door opened, and closed again. Gibbs closed his eyes briefly, trying not to hope that _this_ time it would be Tony. He listened. It definitely wasn’t Abby or Ziva. Not Ducky either. And it was an Emily weekend, so not Fornell. Which left McGee. Or Tony.

It was Tony. He held a glass of water in one hand, and offered Gibbs a beer with the other. He nodded his thanks at him, and took a sip. Tony grinned, looking a little sheepish, and sat on the bottom step. 

“Not got a project going?” he asked, gesturing at the mostly empty basement. The tools were all put away neatly – or at least laid out in nice rows.

Gibbs shook his head.

“Right,” Tony said, looking away. He fidgeted with his water glass for nearly a minute before he sprang up, and started poking around the basement.

Gibbs watched warily from his perch on the sawhorse. Tony would find it soon enough, and Gibbs wasn’t sure he really wanted to stick around for the fall-out. Fornell might have given him hope years ago, but knowing Tony was maybe gay didn’t really make it any more likely he’d fall for a gruff ex-marine with lots of baggage who head-slapped him as a sign of affection. 

Tony continued getting into everything, opening cupboards, poking his hand in boxes and jars, until he nearly smacked his head on _it._ The project. He studied it, hands shoved suddenly into his front pockets, shoulders hunched just a bit. (Gibbs thought about a boy who ran away to a hospital to see his big brother but flinched from his brother’s father, and about a man who very rarely turned his back on people – which was part years of being a cop, but also part of a little boy who’d learned to watch his own back far too young – and was grateful for the trust he was sure Tony wasn’t consciously aware he was bestowing).

He took a step back, and continued to study it, head twisting and turning minutely to focus on different parts. It was silent in the basement, and Gibbs wanted to walk up the stairs, and away. His chest stretched wide open and an empty waitingness filled it and his breath kept getting trapped in the waiting. He tangled his fingers together, and watched them, rather than Tony’s back, which was tense in the way Gibbs had learned meant that he was making spectacular and correct leaps on reasoning in his head that he, Gibbs, could not understand, but that’d he’d follow regardless. (He wondered sometimes if that was how Tony felt about his gut, but he didn’t know how to ask).

Tony turned around and looked at him.

He was studied the same way Tony had studied it, quick eyes and quicker mind ferretting out secrets and stories from his body.

Finally Tony smiled. He pulled his hands out of his pockets, and sat on the third-from-bottom step, and looked up at him.

Gibbs held his eyes, wanted to look away but didn’t want to give away that much. The moment was stretching around them and he wanted to break it, to scatter the tension, but it held him tight.

“You’re in love with me,” Tony said simply. 

The tension shattered, and Gibbs was able to look away, close his eyes, even as the tension mended itself and settled between them. Tony wasn’t leaving yet. He’d sat on the stairs, settled in. Having it out there was a relief, a little. The chips would fall where they would, and Gibbs would weather this storm like he’d weathered others. He tried not to think about Tony leaving, working for someone else, being with someone else.

Tony shifted on the stairs, and Gibbs couldn’t help but look at him. “It’s a good thing I love you too, then.”

Gibbs startled. “Sorry?”

Tony just grinned. “I told Emily a story the other night. She wanted a made-up one, but I told her a true story anyway. There was a boy who wanted to be a knight in it, and two knights with shining armor. One of the knights saved the boy when he was just a boy, but the other knight saved him when he was a man and the world was too much for him. And kept saving him, quietly, without saying anything about it.” Tony looked away. “Tobias says I’ve been in love with you since about the day we met, but I realized it when I tripped over that damn dog. I was laying there, gun out and pointed at the guy, and I wasn’t afraid, because I knew you would be there. You’re a Marine – no one gets left behind.” Tony swallowed hard, and Gibbs saw that his hands were shaking a little. 

“I figured it out the day your car blew up, after Jeanne,” Gibbs said quietly. “I came back here and waited and waited for you to show up but you called instead and I wanted you here, where I could see you and take care of you.” 

Tony smiled a little. “I don’t think I would have let you. You going to Mexico. . . “ he trailed off, rubbing his neck. “Jeanne used to ask me about you. I mean,” he said in a rush, “she didn’t know about you. But she knew someone had left me, and I was afraid of making a commitment.” He shrugged, looking at Gibbs. “If we do this, we’ll do it right. No sneaking around, no secrets. I won’t be your secret.” 

Gibbs stared at him, still a little stuck on Tony’s confession. He shook his head. “No. I won’t hide you away. I promised your brother I’d treat you right, if I ever got a change, and even if I hadn’t promised, you deserve someone who treats you right. Besides, half the yard already thinks we’re sleeping together.”

Tony smirked. “The other half thinks you’re like a father to me.” His face showed his thoughts on that subject.

Gibbs grinned at the face Tony was making, and stood up. He felt slightly foolish, like a high-schooler in the throes of their first crush, but he wanted to be closer to Tony, and sitting across the room wasn’t going to cut it. He sat down on the step next to him, and was gratified when Tony immediately leaned in to him.

Tony gestured at the project lurking in the corner. “That why you didn’t want me in the basement, the last few times I was here?”

Gibbs nodded, feeling his face flush. “Made it obvious how I felt,” he muttered, trying not to watch Tony. He saw the smile that spread across Tony’s face anyway, and decided the embarrassment had been worth it.

They sat on the steps, Gibbs still somewhat stunned but so grateful. Tony gestured across the basement again. “Should we move that up to your room?”

Gibbs chuckled. “Moving yourself in already?” He said, making a joke to cover his gratefulness.

Tony shifted, looking slightly uncomfortable for the first time all evening, “I mean, I figure even if we haven’t been dating, we know each other pretty well already and it just seemed – we don’t have to, Gibbs, I shouldn’t have said anything,” he trailed off, rubbing the back of his neck and looking away. 

Gibbs swallowed against a tightened throat. “Jethro,” he said quietly. “Jethro at home. Gibbs is for work. And I probably won’t say this as often as I should because I’m crap at emotions, but I love you. I want you here, in my house always. Maybe we can make it a home,” he wrinkled his nose against how sappy he sounded, but continued on, “I figure after however many years we’ve been working together, I can’t really scare you off at this point – you lasted longer on my team than anyone else, ever, and we’ve been together longer than any of my marriages lasted before. So, yeah, I’ll help you move that upstairs. And then we’ll go to your apartment tomorrow and pack up your things, and bring them back here, and you’ll call Tobias, and he and Emily can come over and we’ll have dinner so you can introduce me properly to your family.” He fell silent, abashed again, and looked over at Tony, who looked stunned. 

“Don’t think I’ve ever heard you talk that much before,” he said quietly, smiling at him with a soft smile Jethro had never seen before, and he leant in to press his lips to Jethro’s.

It wasn’t much of a kiss – just a soft brush of lips on lips. Passion, Jethro knew, would come later. This wasn’t about passion and the simmering attraction they’d had going for so many years, though. It was promises and trust and really, by now Jethro should be used to the way Tony made him sound like one of those damn romance novels that Ziva _and_ Kate read. Sitting with Tony on his basement steps, shoulders brushing, thighs aligned, felt like coming home.


	8. Into the Light

Tobias slipped upstairs, listening to the sounds of the kitchen fade as he made his way up to the master bedroom. Tony had told him about the gift Jethro had made him and he wanted to see it for himself. The bedroom door was cracked, and he pushed it open slowly, feeling like an intruder. 

He’d been in here before, pouring his friend into the bed after the explosion-running-off-to-Mexico fiasco, on the nights when Tony was out with Jeanne and Jethro knew something was wrong but couldn’t pull the whole of his friendship with Tony out of the depths of his not-quite-returned memories, and was too busy properly grieving Shannon and Kelly to worry about it anyway. Tobias had spent more time than he liked to remember taking care of both of them. He looked around the room, glace sliding past the bed and the dresser to come to a halt on the – well, Tobias knew it wasn’t called a cabinet, but he wasn’t sure what you called it – on what Jethro had made Tony. The wood matched the bedroom furniture, and one door was open, exposed the TV Jethro had set up inside.  The doors had been inset with frosted glass, and the top drawer was compartmentalized to hold DVDs – small places inset in the dividers for genres. The drawers underneath it were plain, but slid out cleanly and easily.

He heard the door creak open further, and turned to see Jethro standing in the doorway, watching him.  Tobias turned away and continued his appraisal.

“This is nice, Jethro,” he said finally, aware of how inadequate his words were. Nice didn’t really begin to describe it. He thought about Tony in his not-so-great apartment, with IKEA furniture he’d had for years. Nothing at Tony’s place said home – except for the end table Jethro had made him, when Tony had passed the two-year mark. Tobias had never been able to make Tony feel properly at home at his house, but he thought that Jethro might just manage that feat. Of course, if he didn’t, Tobias would claim older brother prerogative and beat the daylights out of Jethro.

Jethro nodded in thanks, and then spoke. “It just sort of happened – I needed a bigger project than the ones I’d been working on and this one – I got halfway through and realized I was making it for Tony, and I couldn’t convince myself to stop working on it.”

“He wouldn’t shut up about it,” Tobias griped good-naturedly, and watched in amazement as Jethro second-b-for-bastard Gibbs blushed.

They stood there, a little awkwardly, both lost in thought, for several minutes before Emily pounded up the stairs. 

“Dad! Mr.Gibbs! Its time to eat dinner!” She looked around the room curiously. “Mr. Gibbs, did you really make that for Uncle Tony?”

Jethro grinned a little. “I did. And Emily, how many times – it’s Gibbs. Or Jethro. None of this Mr. Gibbs.”

Emily grinned back. “But Mr. Gibbs, my dad says I have to respect my elders, and mom says that respecting my elders means calling them Mr., Ms., or Mrs.”

Jethro shook his head, laughing, and Tobias couldn’t keep the smile off his face. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen Jethro this happy – and he’d never seen Tony as happy as he was these days. 

“C’mon!’ begged Emily, done with her perusal of the bedroom. “Uncle Tony made real pasta and the special red sauce! So we gotta go eat dinner!”

Tobias grinned, “Yeah, missy? Gotta?”

“Daaaad,” she whined, “there’s fresh garlic bread and its gonna get COLD. Hurry up!” She was practically dancing in the doorway, and after a final look at the room, Tobias followed her, Jethro chuckling behind him.

Tony had made “real” pasta (Emily had been present as a kid to the many lectures Tobias had received on the evils of store bought pasta and decided after hearing her Uncle Tony declare it the ‘real thing’, that Uncle Tony’s pasta was “real” pasta) and red sauce with that fancy Italian sausage and red wine, and there were mounds of garlic bread. There was a salad, too, because for all the noise Tony made about eating crap food, he was kind of a health nut – it came from his days as a college athlete. Tobias had even become better about eating salad and greens – Tony had got Emily on his side, and he was pretty helpless when the two of them started in on him. 

Emily tugged his hand, pulling him into the large kitchen. “Doesn’t the table look nice, dad? Uncle Tony said we should eat in the dining room, but I thought we should eat here. Its homier,” she said, and then looked guiltily over her shoulder at Jethro. “Sorry Mr. Gibbs.”

Jethro grinned slightly. “Shannon refused to eat in the dining room too, Emily. Said it was too formal and cold for a family.” 

“See, Uncle Tony! I was right,” Emily said, sticking her tongue out at Tony when he made a face at her. 

Jethro ushered Emily and Tobias to the table, and then went to the cupboard, where he pulled serving bowls out. “These good?” he asked Tony, who was making a last minute salad dressing adjustment.

Tony turned his head briefly. “Yeah, those are fine. Pasta needs draining but it’s ready. Pour half the sauce on it, and put the rest in the smaller bowl, thanks.”

Tobias watched, pleased, as Jethro and Tony wove around each other in the kitchen, leaving bowls and utensils out for each other, stepping out of the way – their years of partnership on the job showing clearly. He and Emily looked at each other and smiled. “He looks happy, dad,” whispered Emily, smiling. 

Tobias nodded. “He does.”

Jethro set the pasta and sauce down on the table as Tony finished the salad, and finally all four of them were seated. Emily said grace, a practice she’d picked up from Diane and Tony – though mostly Diane, and they tucked in.

Tobias was watching Jethro’s face as he started eating, and was gratified by the flash of surprise that crossed his face as he took his first bite. The second followed quickly, and then he turned to Tony accusatorily. “You can cook!” he said.

Tony turned red, and didn’t really say anything, though noise came out of his mouth.

“Tony always cooks!” chimed in Emily. “Real pasta is special, but dad can’t cook. When I’m coming over, Uncle Tony makes dishes we can reheat so we don’t eat take out all weekend.”

Tobias felt his neck flush. “I can cook,” he protested, “You just prefer Tony’s cooking to mine.”

“Well,” Emily lingered over the word, “That’s ‘cause Uncle Tony is a better cook than you are.”

Jethro laughed. “Really, Tony. This is really good. How come I never knew you could cook?”

Tony grinned a little. “I made you pizza all the time, and you never realized? And about every other time I brought food over here, I’d made it. It was just lonely eating by myself.”

Jethro stared, and then laughed again. “I thought that was good take-out from some hole-in-the-wall place you’d found. I had no idea you made it. It’s really good.”

Tony ducked his head, and blushed, and turned his attention back to his meal. Rather than poke fun at his brother, Tobias did the same – it was no good letting ‘real’ pasta get cold. 

After a long, leisurely meal, Tobias looked at the clock in shock. “Emily,” he said, “we’ve gotta go. Your mom will be by at 8 tomorrow to pick you up.” 

Emily looked disappointed – Tobias had a suspicion that she’d known exactly how late it was and hadn’t said anything about it – but she didn’t complain. Instead, she cleared the table, and then leaned her head on her Uncle Tony as Jethro started the dishes.

As Tobias turned to grab coats, Jethro snagged his arm. “Thanks for coming tonight. Meant a lot to him.” 

He nodded. “Thanks for letting him have us.”

Jethro shook his head. “His house too. Our guests. You’re his family. You’re always welcome.”

They both looked away, neither comfortable with displays of emotion, but not before Tobias nodded his understanding. He pulled their coats off the couch, and came back into the kitchen.

“Up you go Emily,” he said, holding her coat out for her. She looked about ready to drop to sleep on Tony’s shoulder. She put her coat on, and started for the door. Tobias stopped her, quietly prompting, “manners, Emily.”

“Thanks for having us,” she said, yawning. “Dinner was really good, Uncle Tony. You have to show me the basement next time, Mr.Gibbs.”

“Night,” said Jethro from the sink.

Tony gave Emily a hug, and dropped a kiss on her head. “Thanks for all your help, Emily! I’ll see you next time, okay?” He let go, and stood awkwardly in front of Tobias. “Thanks,” he said, quietly.

Tobias touched his shoulder briefly, and then let go. “Fratellino, you better still keep me and Emily well fed,” he said instead. 

Tony laughed, and nodded, pushing a container of left-overs into his hands.

Tobias gathered Emily, and they left. As he pulled out of the  drive, he could see into the kitchen. Tony had wrapped his arms around Jethro, and they were standing at the sink, soaking up each other’s presence. Tobias smiled. Tony was home.


End file.
